“In other words, misery loves company,” Avery said snidely.
Eddy gave a helpless lift of his shoulders and apologetically replied, “I didn’t make up the rules, Carole.”
She divided her disgusted look among the three of them. “So, what’s the verdict?”
“I have a suggestion.”
“You have the floor, Eddy.” As before, Tate’s feet were resting on the corner of his desk, and he was reclining in the tall leather chair. Avery was tempted to sweep his boots off the desk just to unbalance his posture and his insouciance.
Eddy said, “On Carole’s behalf, I declined her invitation to attend that dinner coming up this Friday night.”
“The southern governors’ thing in Austin?”
“Right. I excused her from going by saying that for all the progress she’s made, she wasn’t quite up to a black tie evening.”
He turned toward her. “I could call them back and accept. It’s a bipartisan group, so there’ll be no active campaigning, just a chance to glad-hand, see, and be seen. We’ll see how that evening goes and make a decision about the trip based on that.”
“An audition, in other words,” Avery said.
“If that’s how you want to see it,” Eddy returned calmly. He looked toward Jack and Tate. “She did a pretty good job at that press conference when she left the hospital.”
Eddy’s opinion mattered a great deal to Tate, but final decisions were always left to him. He glanced at his older brother, who had remained irascibly silent. “What do you think, Jack?”
“I guess it’d be okay,” he said, glancing at her resentfully. “I know Mom and Dad would rather the two of you present a unified front.”
“Thank you both for your advice.”
They took the subtle hint. Jack left the office without saying another word. Eddy nodded an unspoken good-bye to Avery and closed the door behind himself.
Tate held her stare for several moments. “All right,” he said grudgingly. “You’ve w
on a chance to convince me that you’d be more of an asset than a liability when we begin campaigning in earnest.”
“You won’t be disappointed, Tate. I promise.”
He frowned doubtfully. “Friday night. We’ll leave the house at seven sharp. Be ready.”
Eighteen
“I’ll get it.”
The front doorbell had rung twice. Avery was the first to reach it. She grabbed the knob and pulled it open. Van Lovejoy stood between the pots of geraniums.
Avery froze. Her expectant, welcoming smile turned to stone, her knees to water. Her stomach tightened.
Van reacted with similar disquiet. His slumped posture was instantly corrected. A cigarette fell from between his fingers. He blinked numerous times.
Avery, hoping that his pupils had been dilated by marijuana and not shock, mustered as much composure as she could. “Hello.”
“Hi, uh…” He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head of stringy hair. “Uh, Mrs. Rutledge?”
“Yes?”
He covered his heart with a bony hand. “Jesus, for a minute there, you looked just like—”
“Come in, please.” She didn’t want to hear him speak her name. She had barely curbed her impulse to joyously cry out his. It had been nearly impossible to keep from hugging him fiercely and telling him that she was onto the hottest story of her career.
From the beginning, however, she had been in this alone. Telling Van would place him in danger, too. As comforting as it would be to have an ally, she couldn’t afford the luxury. Besides, she didn’t want to risk blowing the opportunity by confiding in him. Van wasn’t all that trustworthy.